


but not for lack of trying

by TheDukeofAvon



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Toronto Maple Leafs, absurdity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-15
Updated: 2014-04-15
Packaged: 2018-01-19 11:35:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1468018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDukeofAvon/pseuds/TheDukeofAvon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the Leafs collectively embark on the most unhelpful and unnecessary matchmaking attempt of all time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	but not for lack of trying

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: brace yourself, because things are about to get VERY STUPID.
> 
> This story is dedicated to Annemarie. It is not actually her fault but I'm going to blame her anyway.

 

It’s 3:30am when Tyler sits bolt upright in bed. It’s sudden enough that he almost ends up on the floor of Phil’s bedroom, and only a wild grab at the bedpost saves him.

“Phil,” he whispers.

There’s no movement from under the blankets. “Go back to sleep,” a voice grumbles.

“Phil,” says Tyler again, more insistently. “I just realised something.”

“Shhhh,” says Phil.

“Phil, I think Loops is trying to get us together.”

Phil rolls over and pushes the duvet down. “But,” he says.

“I know,” says Tyler.

There is a pause. Tyler can’t see Phil’s face clearly in the dark but the air around him is giving off a sceptical expression.

“No way,” says Phil finally. “That’s stupid. Can I sleep now?”

Tyler settles back against his pillow, but this isn’t the end of this subject, not by far. He can sense it. By the end of the week Phil will know that he’s right, and it will be terrible.

 

They have practice the next morning. Phil doesn’t mention Tyler’s late-night epiphany and might not even remember it. Tyler waits, because he knows there will be a reminder before long.

Lupul corners them afterward. Tyler is both smug and terrified.

Lupul is smiling more than usual. He’s very effusive about how well they’d worked together, when it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Tyler and Phil work alright together. Of _course_ they do.

But Loops is smiling and smiling and saying things he ought to be ashamed of, like: “You’re great together--” noticeable pause-- “on the ice.”

Tyler manages to turn his horrified laugh into a cough, although it does not, he suspects, sound anything like the kind of cough a normal human being would ever make. Phil uses this interruption to flee to his locker.

Lupul doesn’t seem to notice the unrealistic coughing and precipitate flights. He shifts from one foot to the other, rubs the back of his neck, and starts talking about some new restaurant, about how great it is, about how everyone should definitely go, only he definitely can’t. “I made these reservations, but now I guess nobody’s gonna use them…” He trails off like he expects something.

“Yeah?” Tyler prompts.

“You know, seems like a shame to waste them, great restaurant…I thought maybe you…”

Fuck, maybe he should put the man out of his misery. They have to eat somewhere, after all. He calls out an invitation to Phil and tries to ignore Lupul’s look of utter relief.

 

A little later, he and Phil are discussing their pre-dinner plans, and Lupul fucking noses in again like Stella after food.

“See a movie, maybe,” he suggests. “Didn’t Phil want to see that thing with Matt Damon?”

Tyler finds himself agreeing just because he thinks Lupul will follow him around making suggestions if he doesn’t. At least he’s not quite licking his chops like Stella after she gets what she wants.

 

“Dinner and a movie,” says Phil, a little later. “What the hell.”

A certain someone has decided they need to relive being clueless teenagers. And that they need their hands held to even succeed at being clueless teenagers. 

 

The thing is, teenagers’ methods aren’t generally that effective on teenagers, let alone anyone else. The end result of Lupul’s efforts is that for the first time in several attempts, they watch a movie together and pay attention to the entire thing. It’s pretty enjoyable, actually. A change of pace. A little boring as a date, yeah--they’re not exactly going to start making out in their seats, and it’s not a good movie for that anyway. Too many sudden loud noises. But it’s not bad, and maybe the restaurant won’t be either. 

 

It’s a perfectly nice restaurant, although the tables have candles on them and Tyler has never considered himself a candles-restaurant kind of guy. They chat about nothing in particular over some pretty good food and better wine. Their table is next to a window and the rain drums against it, not loud but steady, very relaxing.

But Phil isn’t relaxed. He’s gone tense, gaze darting over Tyler’s left shoulder and away again. Tyler kicks him under the table to get his attention and raises his eyebrows.

“I thought…” Phil trails off and shakes his head. “Nothing.”

“What?” Tyler starts to turn his head.

“Don’t look!” says Phil. But he’s clearly looking again, leaning a little sideways in his chair for a better view.

“What,” says Tyler.

“Uh,” says Phil, “I think Dion is here?”

“Well…he probably likes restaurants like this. He’s probably not stalking us.” It’s a thought, at least, and Tyler will cling to it as long as he can.

“And I think he’s with Raymond.”

“Raymond? You have to be fucking kidding me, are they all in on this? They’ve got Mase too?”

“Looks like it,” says Phil gloomily.

That settles it. There’s no way both Phaneuf and Raymond have shown up here together for any reason other than the most terrible reason of all. Their date has been infiltrated by spies. Tyler starts to look again.

“Don’t!” says Phil.

“Why not?”

“I feel like we should just ignore them?”

 “I don’t see how that’ll help.”

Tyler looks. He spots Dion and Raymond right away, at a table by the back wall. They aren’t watching right now, too busy with the food that’s just arrived. As he turns back to Phil, someone else catches his eye. There’s a lone man at a table across the room, holding his menu in front of his face in a way that normal people just don’t hold menus, and the very top of his head is sadly familiar.

Under Tyler’s fascinated gaze, the menu slowly lowers to reveal James van Riemsdyk’s beady, staring eyes. They look at each other a moment, and then the menu jerks back up. The top of Reemer’s forehead seems rather red, but maybe that’s only the mood lighting.

“Reemer is here too,” Tyler says. “Separately. We’re fucked.”

“I don’t know what they expect,” Phil mutters.

Neither does Tyler. The spies are too far away to hear what they’re saying, so are they looking for a makeout session over a table loaded with plates and glasses and candles, in the middle of a restaurant? Tyler knows some people are into, you know, public spectacles and food and hot wax and other stuff, but probably not all at once. And it seems kind of inconvenient and messy to him.

They finish their meal mostly in silence, steadfastly refusing to look in the direction of any of their idiot teammates. It doesn’t help, though, because Tyler spends every moment imagining their stares anyways.

“I don’t understand,” Phil whines on the way back to the hotel. “We already _do_ this stuff. We do it a lot better without the whole team messing with it.”

Tyler agrees wholeheartedly. Left to their own devices, they probably would’ve had a very nice dinner, made all the more romantic by the lack of the fucking _spies_.

 

*

The real beginning hadn’t been this stupid. Tyler had thought so at the time, what with all the beer and the broken mirror and Stella’s sudden and unfortunate appearance on the scene. But it had been relatively to-the-point. They hadn’t gone to sit side by side but not touching at a stupid movie and then to sit across from each other at a restaurant with candles on the table. What if they had succumbed to whatever sudden passion the spies were watching for? They might’ve gotten burned by the fucking candles, and where the fuck would they be then?

Tyler would like to think that if _he_ had two teammates in their situation, he would recognise it had to be one of two things: either they’d already figured it out, or it would never work anyway. He would like to think that he would’ve trusted those guys to sort out their own shit, what with the many opportunities they’d have while, you know, living together and all.

Their teammates think they’re dumb as rocks, apparently.

 

*

 

The next day, Lupul tells a very boring story about his Tuesday evening (dinner at some other restaurant, and the oysters tasted funny, or something) as a totally non-obvious segue into asking about Tyler’s Tuesday evening. 

He’s probably already received a full report from his minions, but Tyler gives him a brief rundown. “We saw Dion and Mase there too,” he adds. “Oh, and Reemer.”

From the look on Lupul’s face, this was decidedly not part of the plan. “Really,” says Lupul in a choked voice. “All of them?”

“Yeah,” says Tyler. “Funny, huh? Reemer went alone for some reason, too.” He spots that particular spy across the locker room and calls out, “Hey, you should’ve joined me and Phil last night! Eating alone at restaurants like that is fucking sad, man.”

Rielly starts harrassing Reemer about it, accusing him of getting stood up by some girl he’s into, which tells Tyler that Rielly is probably innocent--for now. Lupul, on the other hand, is a guilty fucker and is glaring in Reemer’s direction. As if Lupul has any room to complain about a lack of subtlety, Jesus Christ.

 

Later he sees Lupul eyeing him from across the locker room, eyes narrowed. He is regrouping.

 

 

*

“We should probably tell them,” says Phil. 

“I don’t know,” says Tyler. “I’d kind of like to see what else they try.”

“That's not going to be pretty.”

“That's the idea," says Tyler. “I want them to feel like failures. Fuck them all! How stupid do they think we are?”

Phil grimaces like he’s afraid to find out the answer to that, but he is totally going to, through painful experience.

 

*

 

They go out after a loss on the road. Nothing much, just a couple of beers to not-cry into at some bar that Dion insisted on. Tyler wants to check out early, and so does Phil--and it turns out that because this bar is by the lake, the best route to the hotel goes along a beach--or at least that’s what Dion and Joffrey claim.

Tyler can’t decide if this is true or if it’s another of Lupul’s horrible strategies. This seems like a poor time for romantic dates, plus it’s a fucking lake, so that doesn’t even count. But Dion and Joffrey are worryingly insistent.

So the point is: there is a beach, and they are going to take a fucking lengthy walk on it.

At least it isn’t January. Actually, if it was January then maybe they would’ve been left alone.

They end up taking that route, because it’s supposedly quicker than waiting for a taxi in this part of town. It’s a warm night, with a breeze coming in off the water, and it’s easy to follow the path along the lake. Their hands brush together every so often, and Tyler likes that, although he would like it more if his legs were less tired.

“I guess this is kind of nice,” says Tyler.

“I guess,” says Phil. “But…”

And, yeah. Maybe they could’ve gotten a taxi to the hotel by now, and there are a lot of things they could be doing there. Phil’s lack of appreciation for their current activity is palpable.

They wander across the sand to the water anyway. The moon reflects off the lake and casts enough light for Tyler to make out Phil’s expression, which is just as blank as usual.

“Is this where I discover your sensitive side?” asks Tyler.

“No, this is where I discover _your_ sensitive side,” Phil says, and before Tyler can react he’s been shoved into the water--the really fucking _cold_ water, so if he was screaming it would be understandable (but he is definitely not screaming). Retaliation is necessary, so Phil winds up on his ass in the waves, sputtering and glaring.

“I wish Loops was here to see how romantic this is,” says Tyler, trying and failing to wring out his jeans.

“Fuck you both,” says Phil.

They end up laughing, and Tyler likes the way Phil’s jeans are now adhered to him, but overall he would not rate it as one of the top romantic experiences of his life.

Also, the hotel is not as close as it was supposed to be.

"Short walk, my ass," grumbles Phil. The nice breeze feels like a frigid gale after the dunking.

“This is your fault,” Phil tells Tyler.

“At least we know just how low they’ll go,” says Tyler. He feels this is important. If they will stoop to long walks on the beach, they will stoop to anything.

“Hmph,” says Phil, unconvinced.

 

One of the culprits is in the hotel lobby.

"What the fuck, you two," says Lupul when he sees them.

“Phil tried to drown me," Tyler explains.

“I had my reasons,” says Phil serenely.

Later, Tyler spots Loops and Dion whispering to each other in the fifth floor hallway, maybe about whether Phil’s seeming liking for Tyler is a cover for a homicidal mania. 

 

*

There are a few more attempts over the following weeks. Mostly suggestions-cum-threats that they go to dinner together, because nobody has any creativity, and everyone’s also kind of busy for much else. They get a reprieve after that, although Tyler knows better than to hope they’ve given up. Someone must’ve decided they should back off a bit, and if Tyler finds out who it was, he will send that man some flowers. Creepy, anonymous flowers, because they all deserve no better, but he will still include a thank you note.

*

 

Dion hosts a party at his house--a low-key affair to take advantage of what’s probably the last good weather of the year. There’s grilling and a bonfire, a few drinks, a good chance to talk about something other than hockey. 

Dion’s wife is out of town, and it’s defaulted to just the guys. They end up gathered around a fire Dion’s built in the backyard, chatting and drinking while the sun goes down. Tyler’s settled into a camp chair, lazily contributing to the conversation when he feels like it, but mostly watching Phil. He likes that, observing Phil in situations off the ice and outside the condo. He likes the awareness that Phil has of him, the peripheral attention that goes beyond when they’re in the opponent’s end and Tyler has the puck. Phil knows Tyler’s looking and Tyler can see it in his body language, the way he angles a little closer, the amused knowledge in his eyes. There’s always been something about the secretive side of this that makes Phil want to laugh.

One by one, the other guys start getting up for a drink, or to use the washroom, and someone says something about checking on the progress of some football game. Eventually Tyler and Phil are the only two left. They end up sitting there by the fire for awhile longer, sometimes talking, sometimes not talking. Tyler nudges Phil with his knee, once, and they exchange a long look.

“Think they wanted to get us alone out here?” asks Phil.

“I don’t know, maybe,” says Tyler. “But this is alright.”

And it is--just cold enough that the fire feels good, and dark enough that there are a hell of a lot of stars to look at if Tyler leans back in his chair. This one might’ve worked, he thinks, if not for the possibility of their captain peering at them through his windows. 

Eventually the fire’s dying, and they can’t find where the logs are, so Phil heads back to the house to consult Dion and get another couple beers. Tyler doesn’t move, sleepy and content with watching the low flames and wondering vaguely if the mosquitoes are truly and permanently dead for the year. After awhile he notices that it’s taking Phil a long time to get a few bottles and ask Dion if they should keep the fire going.

Finally, though, Phil reemerges from the house. 

“I can’t find anyone,” he says in a weird voice. “I think they’re gone.”

Tyler stares at him. They hadn’t been out here _that_ long. “What about Dion?”

“I think he left, too.”

“But it’s his house! He’s our host!”

Phil shrugs. “I shouted a few times, didn’t hear anybody.”

“But…” says Tyler. This would display a frightening degree of coordination. 

Phil drops back into his chair. “If Dion’s here, he’s hiding.”

“What if they’re _all_ hiding somewhere, spying on us?” Tyler asks. 

“I think I would’ve seen them,” says Phil dubiously. “I mean, it’s pretty hard to hide a whole hockey team behind your couches.”

That doesn’t mean there aren’t one or two of them looking. Phil and Tyler wait by the fire a little longer, in case anyone returns. Nobody makes an appearance, but they don’t take advantage of the darkness and the solitude and the stars.

If there _is_ a spy behind an upstairs window, well, he can’t go thinking he’s won.

 

The rest of the team tries to play it cool when Phil and Tyler ask. Dion denies there was anything weird about it. People needed to head home, he says, and he just never heard Phil’s shouts. Phil confirms later that this is not remotely plausible.

 

*

“I feel like they’re ganging up on us,” says Phil. “I bet they’re going to start using force if we don’t agree.”

“You’re being paranoid,” says Tyler. 

Dion approaches with a phalanx of d-men.

“Oh,” says Tyler. “I guess you’re right.”

Dion has a suggestion. The suggestion is a very particular Vancouver park, following a particular route through the trees where they can see all sorts of wildlife, including some interesting birds. Tyler and Phil can only nod along. It’s a very threatening sort of suggestion.

After movies, dinners, long walks on the beach and bonfires, it is apparently time to get _creative_. Which means they are doomed.

They have maybe-kind-of-agreed to this, mainly because Loops is supposedly coming along and Tyler can’t resist finding out how he plans to help. Phil makes concerned faces and isn’t enthusiastic.

Rielly tells them some ridiculous story about his cousin, who once claimed to have had sex with his girlfriend up against a tree in this particular park. This story is probably the inspiration for the idea, judging by the panicked expression Lupul gets when he overhears. Rielly cluelessly chatters on.

 

The end result is that they _are_ going, and they had damn well better romantically frolic in the Canadian wilderness, or else.

“How bad could it be?” says Tyler, which he knows is the kind of thing one should never say in this situation.

 

It is pretty bad. 

But before that, it’s actually kind of nice, even when Lupul comes up with a bullshit reason to disappear. (He saw a cool bird, or something, and--what the fuck, does he think bolting off into the forest to chase a bird is a thing real people do?) Still, Tyler doesn’t mind wandering around for a bit.

“Are you starting to feel like the cousin’s girlfriend?” asks Phil.

“The cousin’s girlfriend must’ve been somewhere with smoother trees,” says Tyler, side-eyeing the rough bark on the nearest bigleaf maple.

 

It starts raining. Not hard, and although Tyler wasn’t as sensible as Phil and didn’t bring a raincoat, his hoodie is doing an okay job. They head for the car.

When they get back to the parking lot they find that either someone has stolen the car, or Lupul has abandoned them here. Tyler’s money is on the latter, because the bird thing was suspicious.

Phil calls Lupul and it goes to voicemail. Tyler tries Dion, because it’s probably his fault too somehow, but can’t get him either. Phil has the bright idea to call some guy he knows who isn’t on the Leafs, so they have a ride coming…eventually. 

It starts raining harder.

Phil offers his raincoat as a makeshift umbrella, which doesn’t work very well but does require some close physical contact. Even pressed up against each other, it doesn’t give them much cover.

It is not romantic.

While slowly soaking up all the rain in Vancouver, Tyler has time to ponder his teammates’ methods. Do they think, he wonders, that by putting him and Phil in this situation, they’ll learn something new about each other? Something, presumably, that will cause them to fall into each other’s arms? Sure, Phil’s being nice about the coat, but that’s nothing unexpected. Tyler _knows_ Phil, who is more predictable than rain in Vancouver. 

For Tyler the point has always been that it’s Phil Kessel. Phil Kessel’s most important quality is his ability to be Phil Kessel better than anybody else. Tyler doesn’t really want anything different or surprising, not now.

“I hate you so much,” says Phil.

Tyler grins. 

 

Phil’s friend finds them with mostly-dry heads and mostly-wet everything else. He doesn’t seem to understand their explanations, but he lets them into his car and it’s not like this would make sense to a sane person, anyway.

“Next time, I don’t care whether it sounds like a good idea, we’re not going,” says Phil.

Tyler figures this thing has probably run its course, and agrees.

 

*

 

That leaves the problem of how to make it stop.

Lupul tells them a bullshit story about having to give someone a ride, doesn’t understand how he never got Phil’s call, swears he went straight back to the parking lot and must’ve missed them by less than five minutes. Tyler supposes there is no way his teammates will ever tell the truth.

 

Phil is the one who ends up cracking first.

It’s only a week later when Dion decides to try again, with some suggestive looks and weird compliments that Lupul quickly seconds.

“You know what?” says Phil. “You’re not subtle. You should probably stop.”

Dion and Loops blink at him.

“This thing you have, with me and Bozie,” Phil says. 

Dion’s face turns an unusual colour. “Uh--sorry. We--didn’t think you’d noticed.”

“Arrrgggghhh,” says Phil.

“Okay, so you noticed.” Dion grimaces.

There is a silence while Phaneuf and Lupul try and fail to silently work out a new strategy.

“Have you been laughing at us the whole time?” asks Lupul, eventually.

Phil shoots Tyler a glance. “I think _he_ has.”

Tyler says, “Right now I’m just embarrassed for everybody.”

And everybody is definitely embarrassed. Tyler gives Phil a sideways glance and Phil glares like it’s not his own fault that he created this situation.

“I guess it was…kind of stupid,” says Lupul.

Then Phil sort of squares his shoulders, gives Tyler an extra glare, and says, “Yeah, since me and Bozie have been together for ages.”

There’s a pause after this, where Tyler suspects Dion and Loops are trying to decide whether this is all their dreams come true or the most humiliating realisation of their lives.

Dion rises to his captain’s role and offers the comment of: “Oh.”

“Yeah,” says Tyler, because what else is there to say?

They look at each other for an incredibly awkward few seconds.

“Well…cool,” says Dion. “That’s cool. Good for you!”

“We just…well, we could see you worked well together,” Lupul adds. “We didn’t know if you’d realised that.”

“ _We live together,_ ” says Phil. “You didn’t think we would realise this ourselves? Like, a long time ago?”

“So you…” Lupul trails off, looking from Phil to Tyler.

“We aren’t totally stupid,” says Tyler, and from the looks on their faces it seems this never occurred to them as a possibility.

“Oh,” says Lupul. “Okay.” Tyler resists the urge to give him a golf clap.

Everyone else is filing into the locker room. They’re supposed to be getting ready for a _game_ here, and instead they’re having the worst and most insulting conversation of all time. The rest of the team senses there’s a confrontation going on and they stand there and watch with no courtesy at all.

Lupul and Phaneuf are still darting looks between them, like they don’t quite believe it--and screw them, seriously, because Tyler and Phil have had their shit together for over a year. That’s a fucking lot more than can be said for their teammates.

“You’re all terrible,” says Tyler. It needs to be said.

“We were trying to help!” Dion insists.

“You didn’t,” Phil says.

“Because you’ve cockblocked us at _least_ three times,” adds Tyler, and their faces are almost enough to make up for it.

“So you’re…together,” says Lupul, after a bit, and there’s something--hopeful in it, like he’s been wanting to grab them by their necks and smash their faces together for so very, very long. Loops is honestly happy for them, all humiliation aside, and Tyler appreciates that.

So does Phil, it seems, because they end up kissing--or making out, but who’s keeping track--in the middle of the locker room, and it's at least partly for Lupul's benefit (or to rub it in his face, something like that). Several guys whistle and a lot of people clap. There's maybe more relief than there should be, but Tyler's looking at Phil and can't be bothered to care.

 

After that, the whole story has to be told. Because Tyler and Phil are the tellers, certain people are treated exactly as they deserve.

Loops, Dion and company get chirped relentlessly, so Tyler thinks it was totally worth it.

 


End file.
